


Turandot: The Prince and the Seamstress

by Mikauzoran



Series: A Night at the Opera [3]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrinette, Aged-Up (20), Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Dorks in Love, Emotional Support, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Happy Ending, Hot Mess Adrien Agreste, Marinette Dupain-Cheng/Adrien Agreste - Freeform, Minor Angst, Mutual Pining, Pining, Prince Adrien Agreste, Protective Adrien Agreste, Seamstress Marinette Dupain-Cheng, True Love wins, adrienette - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:53:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24343075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mikauzoran/pseuds/Mikauzoran
Summary: Prince Adrien issues an edict that any woman who can solve his three riddles will become his bride, but all who fail will be put to death. In order to save the man she loves from himself, royal seamstress Marinette rises to the challenge.In which Adrien is so over arranged marriage and really wishes princes were allowed to marry seamstresses. Meanwhile, Marinette tries to keep her prince in line, but he is such a handful. The things she does for love of this boy.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Series: A Night at the Opera [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1759210
Comments: 32
Kudos: 315





	Turandot: The Prince and the Seamstress

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, and welcome to my latest one-shot! I'm Mikau. It is either nice to meet you or good to see you again. Thank you so much for checking this out. I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Come talk to me on Tumblr: https://mikauzoran.tumblr.com/

A Royal Edict: Prince Adrien of Agreste offers his hand in marriage to any woman who answers his three riddles. She who fails forfeits her life.

“Call for my seamstress,” Adrien muttered from where he lounged on his window bench in a state of melancholy torpor.

“Right away, My Prince,” Nino, one of Adrien’s attendants, responded before hurrying off.

“And cut the music,” Adrien added in a jaded tone. “I don’t feel like music.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Luka, the first violinist, replied, and the string quartet fell silent.

The whole room was eerily quiet as the small crowd of entertainers and servants did their very best to remain still so as not to create noise that would upset their prince…as if they feared that he would have _them_ put to death too if they displeased him.

Two more young women had been executed that day. _Adrien_ —through his folly—had caused their deaths.

He’d never thought that people would actually come and try to answer the riddles…but come they did, at least one per day. On the worst day there had been five.

It was lunacy.

Why had no one told Adrien that this was a bad idea?

 _“_ Marinette _told you that this was a bad idea,”_ he mentally admonished.

Why had he not listened to her? Why did he still hold out hope that the madness would soon end, that people would stop coming?

“The royal seamstress!” Nino announced, breaking into Adrien’s morose reflections and causing his heart leap for joy.

Marinette strode into the room, making her way over to where Adrien reclined and dropping into a low curtsy. “My Prince,” she greeted formally.

“I need to consult with my seamstress in private. Everyone out,” Adrien commanded and then watched as his entourage fled, happy to be free of him.

It stung a bit. Three weeks before, they had all adored their prince. Now, no one wanted to be around him. _Adrien_ didn’t want to be around himself.

The door closed behind them, and Marinette rose, hand going to her hip. “You look awful.”

Adrien gave a startled laugh. “Is that any way to talk to your prince?”

Marinette shrugged, coming over to take his face in her hands so that she could inspect him.

He melted at her touch, suddenly forgetting his troubles.

“You’re the one who ordered me to treat you like a regular person in private,” she retorted. “If any of my other friends looked like you, I wouldn’t be shy in telling them how bad it was. You’re not sleeping, are you?”

“No,” he agreed softly.

She clicked her tongue and mussed his hair, releasing his face. “Scoot over. Let me sit down.”

He swung his legs around off the bench so that his feet rested on the floor, making room for her beside him.

“What did you need to see me about?” she quickly moved on, knowing he didn’t want to talk about why he wasn’t sleeping.

He’d already told her about the “ _shink_ ” of the executioner’s blade haunting his dreams.

“Work?” she questioned. “Or did you just want to talk?”

“Work today,” he informed. “Are you too busy?”

She shook her head. “For the crown prince? Never. I just have a few pieces I’m working on, but I’m ahead of schedule. What did you need?”

“A new travelling cloak, please. I don’t have anything in particular in mind, but you know what I like better than I do anyway.”

“When do you need it?” she inquired, face a little pale, voice carefully neutral.

“As soon as possible. Can you have it done by next week?” He tipped his head to the side.

Marinette looked away, fingers fumbling with the bag that hang at her side as she pulled out her sketchpad and pencil. “I’ll get it done,” she assured. “…You’re leaving?” She tried to sound unconcerned as she flipped to a clean page and started on the lines of a basic cloak shape while she waited for some inspiration to make itself known to her.

He nodded. “I’ve decided that I’m going on a tour of the kingdom.”

“H-How long are you going to be gone?” She swallowed hard, trying to ignore the throbbing of her heart at the thought of being separated from him.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t know. Probably months.”

Her pencil lead snapped.

She cleared her throat and exchanged her writing implement for a new one. “Months is a long time.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “It’ll be good for me.”

Her tongue felt thick in her mouth.

She harbored no delusions of ever being able to stand at his side as a romantic partner, but being around him had been enough. Where would she be if she couldn’t even have his presence?

“You should make a cloak for yourself too,” he remarked offhandedly, watching her sketch. “Get whatever fabric you need and have them send the bill to me.”

“That’s very generous of you, but I don’t really have much use of a travelling cloak, My Prince.” Her voice sounded hollow even to her own ears.

“Adrien,” he corrected gently for the two thousandth time.

She nodded. “I don’t need a travelling cloak, Adrien, but thank you.”

“Maybe not now, but you will next week. You’re coming with me,” he informed.

She looked up, eyelashes fluttering as she blinked in confusion. “I… What? Whatever for?”

He rolled his eyes and gave her shoulder a nudge. “You know. In case I rip a seam or need new vests or something. Besides, you’ve never been out of the capital, have you? You should see the kingdom.”

“I… That…” She opened and closed her mouth, but she couldn’t find the right words in her surprise. “Months is a long time to be gone.”

“…You…don’t want to go?” He frowned, gazing at her with a disappointed pout, as if he were hurt that she didn’t want to come with him.

She shook her head. “I would love to go. I just…I’m concerned about leaving my parents for that long.”

Adrien’s expression brightened instantly. “Oh. If that’s all, we’ll just take them with us. They’re bakers, right? They can help with food prep. They’ll fit right in with the rest of the entourage,” he declared as if it were settled.

It _was_ , in fact, settled. Adrien might treat her as a friend and equal when they were behind closed doors, but who was anyone really to say no to the crown prince? If Adrien wished it, Marinette and her parents would accompany him on his journey along with the other retinue members whose lives where shaped by the prince’s whims.

“Do you mind me asking why the long journey so suddenly?” she hummed as she went back to sketching the cloak. She had an idea now of what she wanted to do with it.

Adrien shrugged and sighed, leaning back and resting his weight on his hands behind him. “I just…I need to get away for a while…. This place reeks of blood, and it’s making me sick.”

Before Marinette could think to censor her reaction, she snorted.

Adrien frowned, turning to look at her. “What?”

“Nothing,” she muttered, redoubling her concentration on her design, going over the lines of the decorative stitching so that they stood out black against the manila color of the page.

“Seriously. What?” He bumped her knee with his own.

Marinette took a deep breath and set her sketchpad down on the seat beside her. With a stern look she replied, “Well, the capital wouldn’t reek of blood if you would just stop having girls put to death for not being able to solve your stupid riddles.”

“Marinette,” he groaned, looking away.

“It’s the truth, Adrien,” she admonished. “You need to revoke that edict.”

“And then what?” he retorted petulantly. “Just straight up announce that I’m never going to marry?”

“It would be better than slaughtering dozens more young women, if you really do have no intention of marrying,” she sassed right back, not putting up with his nonsense.

“Marinette, no,” he sighed, carding a hand roughly through his hair and stopping midway to grip at it and pull in frustration. “I _can’t_ do that. The heir to a kingdom can’t just announce he’s never going to marry and produce a successor.”

“And why not?” she demanded.

“It’ll launch the whole kingdom into chaos and instability and start a succession crisis!” he exclaimed, throwing the hand that was not currently pulling on his hair into the air. “We can’t seem weak or instable to the surrounding kingdoms. They’ll start trying to move in and take our land. I can’t put my subjects living on the borderlands in danger like that.”

He dropped his arms to his sides with a defeated groan.

Marinette reached out tentatively and rested a hand on his forearm.

He relished the touch.

“Adrien, why don’t you revoke the edict and ask your father for a little time before you start looking at suitors again. I think you just need a break,” she suggested kindly, in a mothering sort of way.

The implication that she expected him to resume the search for a wife after said break made him feel sick. How could she send him off into some other woman’s arms so easily? Did she not care for him at all?

“No,” he breathed through the emotional fatigue. “You don’t get it, Marinette. I _can’t_ go back to courting. I can’t play that game anymore. How many times can one person stand to be disappointed in love? Because I think I’m at my limit.”

He had _tried_ courting. After he’d realized that he was never going to be allowed to marry a seamstress, after he’d grieved his star-crossed love for Marinette, he’d tried in earnest to find a mate whom he could respect and build a partnership with.

Many, many times the suits had been doomed from the start. He was introduced to the girl, and they never hit it off. It was easy to move on to the next candidate. All he lost was time. All he suffered was frustration, irritation, and boredom.

Three times, however, he’d gotten emotionally invested and subsequently burned.

Chloé was first. A local lord’s daughter, she was great in the beginning. They had a lot to talk about, and she was fun to be around. She made him laugh, and they developed a real friendship.

She wasn’t Marinette (Adrien knew that no one ever would be), but he thought he could make a life with Chloé.

He let himself become infatuated.

Their courting process moved into the next phase, and instead of private (chaperoned) meetings between the two of them, they started appearing in public together.

That was when the wheels came off.

The first time Chloé snapped at and belittled a servant, Adrien was shocked and a little confused. The second time, he started to be concerned that he’d been wrong about her character.

The third time, the servant whom Chloé harassed and verbally assaulted was Marinette, and Adrien lost it.

After Chloé was Lila, a foreign noblewoman from the south.

She’d seemed so nice. She was smart and interesting, and Adrien enjoyed listening to her stories about the kingdom she came from. Lila always said the nicest things. She made Adrien feel good about himself.

He thought that if he couldn’t have Marinette, at least Lila would be an intriguing, affectionate companion. He could make things work with Lila.

Or so he thought until he noticed that the more Lila hung around the palace, the more somber and withdrawn Marinette became, especially after Adrien had Marinette make a gown for Lila for an upcoming ball.

“You don’t like her?” Adrien gently prodded, sensing trouble. Ideally, he’d marry someone whom Marinette got along with, someone who would respect Marinette and be her friend.

Marinette shook her head and answered laconically, “She’s not a good person.”

Eventually, Adrien got it out of her that Lila was a vile, treacherous snake. Everything out of the villain’s mouth had been a lie designed to make Adrien like her. None of it had been real. She’d just wanted his kingdom, his power, his wealth.

Worst of all, she’d been bullying and threatening Marinette for two whole months, and Adrien had failed to protect her.

Third was Kagami, a foreign princess from the east.

Adrien had really thought that Kagami was the one. She was perfect. Though not as strong as his feelings for Marinette, he genuinely adored Kagami, and she and Marinette got along well.

It was Kagami who broke things off. She was extremely fond of Adrien, but he hadn’t turned out to be what she was expecting, and she didn’t feel like they’d be compatible long-term…not when Adrien’s heart already belonged to someone else. Kagami wanted to be number one to her future husband.

Adrien couldn’t blame her. Not really. She deserved to be number one…even if that did mean breaking Adrien’s heart and foiling his master plan.

“Marinette,” Adrien reiterated pitifully, “I _can’t_ start courting again.”

“Please don’t make me” was implied but remained unsaid.

With a fond sigh, Marinette reached up and cupped Adrien’s cheek. “You don’t have to until you feel like you’re ready,” she assured. “but I really hope you do try to find a wife again eventually, Adrien. I don’t want you to be alone, especially when the kingdom passes to you. I want you to have a partner you can depend upon. I want you to have someone by your side.”

 _“_ You _are by my side,”_ he thought in despair. _“I already have_ you _.”_

She ran her thumb gently along his cheekbone, cooing, “Shh. I know, Adrien. I know you’ve been hurt before. I know it’s hard to entrust your heart to someone only to get it bruised and stepped on and kicked. I know that every time that happens, it only makes it harder to give your heart to the next person, but please don’t build a wall around your heart with glass shards on top.”

She tipped his chin so that his gaze met hers. “One day, you’re going to meet some princess or noblewoman who’s worthy of you, and you’re going to look back and be so glad that you kept your heart open to new opportunities.”

He shook his head, pulling away. His heart couldn’t take her telling him to find someone else when everything he wanted was right in front of him.

Marinette sighed, feeling defeated. She just wanted to see him happy and taken care of, and that wouldn’t happen if he kept himself closed off like this.

“Okay,” she breathed. “It’s okay. If you need time, you can have time. No rush. Just…rescind the edict. _Please_.”

“It won’t last much longer,” he muttered.

“Adrien,” she breathed.

He shook his head and declared, “They’re going to stop coming” with conviction. “People are going to get the picture any day now.”

Marinette groaned, picking up her sketchbook and getting back to work.

“They are,” he insisted, rising to pace in agitation. “This isn’t my fault, Marinette. No one was supposed to come in the first place. Who the heck risks their life answering riddles? That’s _crazy_! That edict was supposed to be a ‘Keep Out’ sign. I mean, I basically put up a sign saying that I’m off the market. What did people _think_ my edict meant?”

Marinette gave a snort and looked up from her sketchpad. “Honestly? People thought that it meant you were gay.”

Adrien nearly tripped over the Persian rug.

“Except,” Marinette continued thoughtfully, “that had them a little confused because people also think that you and I have secretly been together for years now.” She looked back down to her design and completely missed the gobsmacked expression on Adrien’s face.

He stopped pacing. “Wait. Marinette.”

“Hm?” She didn’t look up.

His head was spinning. He felt faint as guilt poured down upon his head like molten basalt.

“Is that why you’ve never gotten married?” he could barely bring himself to ask. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know if he’d ruined this girl’s life.

Marinette blinked in confusion, tipping her head to the side. “What do you mean?”

Adrien tried to swallow, but he found his mouth parched. “Has…Has no one asked for your hand because they think that we…” His face felt so hot that he feared it might melt off. “…That I stole your… That you’re no longer virtuous?” he finally squeaked out.

Marinette stared at him for a moment before bursting into laughter.

That left Adrien to mentally freak out while he waited for her to regain her composure.

“No,” Marinette spluttered. “Adrien, no. I’m sorry for laughing, but…I’ve had plenty of offers.”

The bottom dropped out of Adrien’s stomach. Why hadn’t he known about this? How close had he come to losing her? Had anything happened between her and any of her suitors?

“You…have?” he asked, voice brittle.

She nodded, a bashful blush seeping into her cheeks. “Yeah. I’ve actually even gotten some offers from minor nobles.”

“What?” Adrien choked.

“Apparently, having people think that you’re the mistress of the future king is a plus when it comes to finding a marriage partner,” she laughed wryly. “I think the nobles thought that if they married me, they’d get some kind of leverage with you.”

Adrien hummed thoughtfully. “Well…it is true that any husband of yours would have an advantage at court. I’ll always make sure that you’re taken care of, Marinette.”

“I know you will,” she sighed. “Other people seem to know that too. It’s just…if I marry, it’s going to be for love. I don’t want to play these political jockeying games. I’m not a pawn in some nobleman’s bid to rise in the world.”

Adrien looked down at his feet, scuffing at the fringe of the rug with his boot. “And…you’ve never found anyone you thought you could love?”

Marinette averted her eyes. “I’ve never found anyone of my own socioeconomic class whom I wanted to marry,” she told the truth while simultaneously lying.

He nodded, slowly going back over to the bench by the window to sit beside her. “Well, if you ever did find someone and you needed me to convince him that nothing untoward had ever happened between us, I’d be more than happy to testify to your honor.”

“Thanks,” she snickered, something ironic in the word that gave him pause.

“I’m serious,” he stressed. “If you ever find anyone you want to marry, just let me know, and I’ll see to it that he marries you.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Adrien, you can’t force someone to marry me.”

“I can and will if it will make you happy,” he snorted, determined to see her a content wife and mother, even though he couldn’t bestow those titles upon her himself. “I’m more than willing to command any man of your choosing to marry you—well, after I interrogated him and determined that he was worthy of you.”

Marinette gave a stifled snort. “Adrien, if you think you have any say in whom I marry, you are sorely mistaken.”

“Of course I do,” he replied, crossing his right leg over his left and his arms over one another. “You’re my seamstress. You can’t just go off and get married without my permission.”

He couldn’t stand the thought; it made him so blindingly jealous.

“I’ll need to approve of your husband beforehand,” he informed in the tone of a schoolmaster delivering a lesson to his pupil.

Marinette set aside her sketchbook once more to cross her arms over her chest and glare pointedly at her prince. “Oh? And what if you don’t approve of my choice? What then?”

Adrien bit his lip. “If he were a good man…if he loved you and made you happy and I was convinced that he was going to keep loving you and making you happy for the rest of your life…I would have no reason to object. I’m only interested in making sure that you’re taken care of.”

“Oh,” Marinette breathed softly, butterflies in her stomach from the declaration. It always made her feel woozy when he reminded her how important she was to him. “Well…I guess that’s okay, then, but my husband is my choice.”

Adrien pursed his lips but uncrossed his legs and arms. “Can I at least try to match you with some guys I know?” he tried. “I’ve been thinking over the years about who would make a good husband for you, and I think—”

“—Adrien?” she interrupted softly. “I’m not actually looking for a husband. I’d rather just stay by your side.”

His eyes widened. “Wh-What? Really?”

She nodded earnestly. “I’ll let you know if I change my mind, but there’s no one of my station I’d be interested in marrying. I’d rather just stay on as your seamstress.” A sun-kissed-strawberry blush bloomed on her cheeks. “I’ve been dreaming of your coronation robes for a long time now, and I have to do the outfit for your wedding and your children’s christening clothes. I’d rather be there for you and your family.”

“I…” He was stunned speechless, and it took a minute for him to cobble together a reply. “Thank you. I’d be delighted to have you by my side…always.”

She nodded, a content smile clinging to her lips. “Sounds like we have an understanding.”

“Yeah,” Adrien sighed in relief, feeling much better now that he was clear on her desires.

“And, speaking of my role as seamstress…” She picked up her sketchbook and showed him. “What do you think of my ideas for the travelling cloak? As for color, I’m planning a dark, verdant forest green.”

“You’re a genius,” he chuckled, pleased with the preliminary design. “Do you think you can have this done by next week? How long will it take to do _your_ cloak and anything else you and your family need for the trip? Buy whatever’s necessary, Marinette, and have them send the bill to me. I’ll take care of whatever you need.”

Marinette bit her lip, considering, calculating in her head. “It might actually be two weeks before we can comfortably go on a journey for so long. I’m sorry.”

Adrien nodded slowly, mentally taking stock of the days he’d be trapped in his blood-soaked city.

Marinette saw his horrified expression and sighed, reaching out to clasp his hands. “Adrien…this can’t go on. This is destroying you, and you have to stop it. Repeal the edict.”

“I’m so sorry,” Adrien sighed, dropping his head.

“It’s okay,” she tried to reassure him, giving his hands a solid squeeze. “You’re not a bad person. You just had a really stupid idea. It was a mistake, but there’s plenty of time to fix it.”

He let out a sharp bark of laughter and shook his head. “I can’t. I can’t fix anything…. I’m trapped, Marinette,” he choked on the whisper. “So trapped.”

She gently tugged him to his feet and pulled him into her arms. “Shh,” she soothed, holding him tight, holding him together.

She vowed then and there that she was going to save him.

The next morning did not start off well with the announcement that two additional challengers had arrived, wishing to solve Adrien’s riddles and win his hand.

The first girl was led in (a sweet-looking peasant girl in her Sunday best), and everyone else left so that she could undertake the trial in secret.

Adrien numbly asked her the first riddle: “What is born each night and dies each dawn?”

Ten minutes later, after feverish, desperate contemplation, she replied, “The…moon?”

Adrien’s face fell. “…Moonrise happens at different times throughout the year and doesn’t necessarily correspond with nightfall. You’ve seen the moon up during the day before, haven’t you?”

“I…haven’t noticed,” she choked, her legs collapsing out from under her.

“I’m sorry. That’s not the right answer,” he informed her as he had informed thirty-seven others.

He felt sick as he called in the court and she was led off to await execution.

“Do you maybe need a break before the next one?” Nino, his friend and attendant, inquired gently.

“No, I’d rather just get this over with,” Adrien muttered.

Nino winced. “Okay, but…just…keep breathing, okay?”

Adrien arched an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”

Nino shook his head. “You’re not going to like this next one.”

The door to the throne room opened, and in walked Marinette, giving a little bow of appreciation to the man who held the door for her. She almost tripped over the hem of her skirt in the process.

Adrien frowned. “Marinette, what are you doing here? Did you need something?”

He rose from his throne and came down to meet her, taking her face in his hands. “What’s wrong? Are you all right? You look pale.”

She shook her head, pulling back and away from him, dropping into a low curtsy as befit her station. “Your Highness does me honor to fret so for my sake. Thank you, My Prince. I am well, just…nervous.”

“Stand,” he commanded, remembering himself. He’d been so shaken by her state of distress that he’d forgotten all the eyes upon them. “What do you have to be nervous about? If you’ve come to request something from your prince, there’s no need to worry. You shall have whatever you desire.”

She stood and met his gaze. “My Lord, I’ve come seeking your hand in marriage,” she declared with a steely resolve.

Adrien’s heart leapt. His mind went fuzzy as an overwhelming wave of joy nearly took his legs out from beneath him.

But then she continued: “I’ve come to solve your riddles.”

An icy chill ran through his body. He couldn’t breathe.

“No,” he gasped, barely audible.

He swallowed, found his voice, and decreed savagely, “No! I forbid it! Remove yourself from my presence at once, and never speak of this to me again.”

Marinette’s determined gaze hardened into a glare as her hands went to her hips. “You can’t forbid it,” she retorted. “Your edict promises your hand in marriage to any woman who can solve your riddles. I am a woman; therefore, you cannot refuse me. I am as entitled as any of the noblewomen and shepherdesses and shop girls you’ve already sent to the chopping block for trying, and I demand a shot at your riddles, Adrien,” she snapped, rising to all five feet, three inches of her full height.

Adrien took a slow, deliberate inhale, not breaking eye contact as he growled, “Everybody out!”

The courtiers scattered, fleeing the throne room, leaving Marinette and Adrien to fight things out between themselves.

The door shut behind the exodus, and Adrien deflated.

“Marinette,” he groaned, scrubbing at his face with a hand. “What are you doing?”

“Saving you from yourself,” she snorted.

He rolled his eyes. “How do you figure? You’re going to get yourself killed.”

She shrugged and let her arms fall to her sides with a fwap. “Well, if I do, maybe that will be enough to finally stop you from slowly driving yourself insane with this riddles lunacy.”

He let out a sharp bark of sarcastic laughter. “No, Marinette. Trust me. Your death would be the final nail in my coffin. I—” His voice broke, and it took him several swallows to find it again. “…I can’t lose you,” he whispered, each of the words ringing in pure vulnerability.

Her gaze softened, and her hands went to his face. “Oh, Adrien.” She clicked her tongue.

“I’m serious,” he stressed, reaching out to grip her upper arms. “Marinette, I—”

“—It’s not going to come to that,” she assured. “I’m going to solve your riddles, and then I’m going to marry you, so there will be no more need for anyone else to die.”

Adrien blinked, struck dumb by her proclamation. “But…”

“Relax,” she laughed, patting his cheek and letting her hands fall to rest on his shoulders. “You’re not _that_ clever, Adrien, and I know how your mind works better than almost anyone. I’m going to solve the riddles.”

“But…” he repeated. “…Then you would have to marry me.”

Marinette nodded. “Yes. That is, indeed, what I’m signing up for.”

He pulled away from her, stepping back and shaking his head. His fingers curled into fists, and his nails began to bite into his palms. “But…you can’t. Marinette, I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

Marinette gave a mildly annoyed snort. “Adrien, you’re not _asking_ me to do anything; I’m _volunteering_.”

“But…last night…you said you would only marry for love,” he argued voice wavering with nervous energy. He wanted to pace, wanted to move, but he needed to see her face even more. He needed to see the look in her eyes.

“I could never take that away from you. I know there’s no one you love now, but I could never take away your chance of ever finding love. I couldn’t force you to…to trap yourself in a loveless marriage for my sake.”

Her eyes dropped down to the floor. She took a deep, measured breath, fortifying her resolve before looking up to meet his gaze once more. She gave him a pained, contrite smile.

“Adrien,” she called gently, and his name was so sweet on her lips.

“The only way I could ever marry for love…would be for me to marry you,” she confessed.

The words hit him like a rifle butt to the stomach.

He gasped, unable to catch his breath.

She loved him.

She _loved_ him.

She loved _him_!

“Marinette,” he whispered reaching for her, pulling her into his arms and holding her tight.

Marinette gave a little yelp of surprise but didn’t protest.

“Marinette,” he repeated, the word like a breath of fresh air after being buried alive.

“Hope. Blood. Me,” he recited into her hair.

She pulled back to look up at him in confusion. “What? What’s that?”

“The answers to the riddles,” he confessed sheepishly.

Her eyes went wide.

“The answer to the first riddle is ‘hope’. The answer to the second is ‘blood’, and _I_ am the answer to the third riddle,” he explained.

She gaped at him. “But…that’s cheating.”

“I don’t care,” he laughed giddily, cupping her cheek in his hand and running his thumb along her cheekbone. “I’m not taking any chances.”

Marinette’s lips pressed together into a thin line as she studied him warily. “You…sound happy.”

“I _am_. I _am_ happy,” he chuckled, unable to contain the enormous grin that was threatening to split his face in two. “Marinette, I’ve been deliriously in love with you since we met when we were thirteen. Absolutely nothing could make me happier than knowing you return my love.”

She shook her head, unable to believe it. “You… But… You never said anything!” She accused, smacking him lightly on the arm.

He grimaced and sighed, “What good would it have done? Marinette, my father never would have allowed me to marry a seamstress. It’s just not done. The most I could have hoped for would be to take you as a mistress, but, Marinette, I respect you and care about you too much to ever dishonor you and put you in that position.”

“Oh, Adrien,” she sighed wistfully. “If you had asked, I would have fallen into your arms and been yours in a heartbeat.”

“Good to know,” he snickered, nuzzling her hair gently. “I’ll keep that in mind if Father opposes our marriage once you answer my riddles.”

“He won’t,” she assured. “He wouldn’t dare. He’s allowed young women to be killed over this. He knows he’ll have a peasant uprising lead by the families of those girls if the crown doesn’t honor the terms set forth in the royal edict. He won’t oppose our marriage.”

“This is the best day of my life,” Adrien announced in a dreamy voice, picking her up and giving her a twirl as she laughed in glee.

“I love you,” he breathed as he set her down and pulled back to look at her.

“I love you,” she answered, pure adoration in her eyes as she gazed at him. “…May I have a kiss for luck?” she dared to ask and was rewarded with a gentle brush of his lips against hers.

“Is that all I get?” she giggled.

He clicked his tongue, pretending to scold. “Mademoiselle, you’d taint my virtue with your lips?”

“More than just your virtue,” she purred, a promise.

Adrien nearly got down on his knees on the spot to beg for her to make good on her word. Somehow, he managed to retain control of himself. “Marinette, you can have whatever you want as soon as we’re officially engaged, but, right now, we still have a hurdle to clear.”

“Right,” she breathed, nodding. “…Just one more kiss?”

Adrien readily caved. He’d waited seven years for this, and seven years was long enough.

They went through the riddles twice to practice before they called the court back in to witness Marinette’s triumph.

“I’ve decided,” Adrien declared to his courtiers, “that Marinette is right. She has as much right as any woman to try to solve my riddles.”

He zeroed his attention in on Marinette. “Are you sure you want to do this? The penalty for failure is death, and I won’t be able to save you from that, even if you are my personal seamstress.”

“I’m ready, My Prince,” Marinette replied, determination etched into her face.

Adrien took a deep breath. “Okay…. What is born each night and dies each dawn?”

The ladies and gentlemen of the court began to shift uneasily, casting each other nervous glances.

Marinette remained silent, frowning in thought. Several minutes passed before she opened her mouth to respond, “Hope.”

Adrien breathed a sigh of relief. “Correct.”

The courtiers gave Marinette a round of applause, and some of the servants cheered.

When the crowd settled down, Adrien issued the second riddle: “What flickers red and warm like a flame but is not fire?”

Again, Marinette pursed her lips and furrowed her brow in thought, playing nervously with the hem of her sleeve as she puzzled over the riddle.

Adrien’s entourage squirmed in their seats and whispered to one another in utter bafflement.

“Blood,” Marinette finally answered.

“Correct!” Adrien announced, letting a small smile hover in the corners of his lips.

They were almost home free.

The court applauded, impressed with Marinette’s quick intellect.

Once more, Adrien waited for his subjects to quieten before giving the final riddle: “What is ice which gives you fire and which your fire freezes still more?”

The attendants started to mutter, turning to one another and frowning.

Marinette closed her eyes in concentration.

It was a full three minutes before she opened them again and, taking a deep breath, announced, “You. The answer is you, My Prince.”

“Correct!” Adrien cheered, his voice almost breaking in his joy and relief.

The room erupted in a cacophony of shouts and howls of celebration.

Adrien flew to his feet, spreading his arms out wide. “Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you my bride!”

Another cheer went up.

“Nino,” Adrien called, turning to his attendant. “Please go tell the guards that that other girl is pardoned. Have them send her home.”

He went back to addressing the court: “Everyone can have the rest of the day off in honor of my engagement. Today is a day to celebrate! Luka, music!”

“Yes, Your Highness,” the violinist replied with a bow.

“Alya, run and tell your mother to prepare a special feast tonight,” Adrien instructed.

“Yes, My Lord.” Alya curtsied and ran off to do as bid.

Then, Adrien turned his attention to Marinette and beamed.

She returned his grin, looking radiant and rosy-cheeked.

They glowed as they gazed at one another.

He descended from his throne, striding towards her with purpose, eager to be claimed as her prize.

She dropped into a demure curtsy. “My Lord.”

He dipped into a gallant bow, catching her hand on his way up and bringing it to his lips.

“My Lady,” he breathed as if the words were sacred. “…May I have this dance?”

“I’d be honored,” she giggled, slipping easily into his arms and following his attentive lead.

“So,” He spoke softly so as not to be heard over the music. “If I hire you a fleet of assistants to help with the actual sewing, how soon do you think you’ll have everything ready for the wedding?”

Marinette burst out laughing. “Oh, Adrien. A lot goes into a wedding; it’s not just the clothes.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, his voice pitching into a bit of a whine. “But how long?”

“Two weeks?” she guessed.

“Two _weeks_ ,” he groaned in misery.

She laughed at his theatrics outright. “What’s the hurry?”

He blushed as he gazed at her with pleading eyes, full of the ardor he’d had to keep hidden for so long.

Marinette suddenly couldn’t catch her breath.

“I love you so much, and I can’t wait a second longer to be able to let that love show,” he told her, and she could hear the ache of longing in his voice. “I want to walk in the gardens holding your hand. I want to sit out under the willow tree by the pond and fall asleep with my head in your lap. I want to be able to touch you whenever I want and have no one think twice about it,” he listed, his words painting an idyllic picture of happy domesticity. “I want everyone to know that I’m yours and you’re mine…. I’ve gone _years_ thinking I’d only ever have that in my dreams, and, now, while that dream is finally within my reach, I want to grasp it before something happens to rip it away from me.”

“Oh, Adrien,” Marinette repeated with a gentle affection. “No one is ever going to tear us away from one another.”

“No?” he asked hopefully, wanting to believe her.

“No,” she confirmed, giving his hand a clandestine squeeze. “But, as soon as possible, we need to retire to your sitting room to start ‘going over plans for our wedding’.”

Adrien frowned. “Why did you say that like it had air quotes around it?”

Marinette grimaced. “Because it did.”

“Oh.” Adrien blinked uncomprehendingly.

Blushing, Marinette looked away, mumbling, “I meant that we should use that as an excuse to go to your sitting room because I really want to kiss you senseless…and then maybe get some wedding planning done.”

Adrien immediately brightened. “Oh. I love that plan. I love you.”

Marinette laughed, unable to control the ecstatic grin taking over her lips. “Yeah,” she sighed. “I love you too.”

The

End

**Author's Note:**

> And there you have it. What did you think? Did you like it? I enjoyed writing Marinette and Adrien as two people who care about one another deeply and want the other to be happy and cared for, even though the society in which they live doesn't allow them to be together romantically. I hope I did a good job of actuating what I had in my head for their characterizations. ^.^; I don't know. I'm such a rubbish judge of my own work. What did you think?
> 
> Was there a part in particular that you liked best? How about a part that you didn't like? Were there any lines that you liked especially? Any lines where it seemed like I was trying to be funny, but it didn't actually end up being funny? (I struggle with judging what's funny to other people, so that's why I always ask.) Anyway. I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> I'm not really sure what time period this is set in. The setting kind of felt like a medieval castle, but the clothes and stuff were more like mid-seventeen hundreds. That's the impression I got, anyway. Usually I pin details like this down better, but I didn't do a lot of planning for this piece. I know I have a lot of anachronisms going on. I stopped and looked up the history of the pencil (link below in References, for those interested) because I knew that the pencil I had Marinette sketching with didn't fit the time period, and I was going to do some research to try to be more historically accurate, but then I couldn't pick a year, and when I thought about the year this would take place, I ran into the problem of who would actually be ruling countries during that period and how international relations worked, so... As you can see, I care about these little details more than is probably healthy. ^.^; In the end, I decided not to stress about it because there are very few people who get as bent out of shape about the specifics as I do. To those of you who are like me and were bothered by the anachronistic pencil, I apologize. I hope you were able to enjoy the story anyway.
> 
> A note about the title: Turandot (see link in References for more information) is an opera by Puccini based on a folk legend that has many different versions. This story is more inspired by the folk tale than anything. In the folk tale, a princess makes suitors solve three riddles in order to win her hand in marriage. All who fail are put to death. Inevitably, someone shows up and solves the riddles. The opera Turandot is just another variation on that legend. I suppose it should be noted that I wrote this story on Tuesday and Wednesday (05/19-20/2020). I saw Turandot for the first time on Thursday (05/21/2020). I had heard some of the music before and knew a little bit about the plot from my opera appreciation class, but I hadn't seen it before. On Tuesday, I was listening to the Met Opera's podcasts about the story and some of the music, and I thought, "This is my next Adrienette one-shot".
> 
> Obviously, the opera is really different from my story. Turandot is the princess, and her deal is that she is the reincarnation of her ancestress who hundreds of years ago had her kingdom sacked by invaders who violated and murdered her. Turandot vows that no man shall have her, and she uses the riddles as a pretense to execute any man who tries to win her, taking her revenge on all men for the wrongs done to her in her past life. So, really, the only similarities between the opera and my story are the riddles and the executions. The motives and relationships between the characters are all completely different. The only thing I really took from the opera was Turandot's riddles. I'm rubbish at riddles. I was going to go look up some different ones for Adrien to use (you know. Maybe the Spinx's riddle or something from Tolkien), but then I thought, "Why not just use Turandot's?". I got the riddles off of the Turandot Wikipedia page, and when I saw the opera, I was surprised to find that they were different from what I'd found on the Wikipedia page (not majorly different, but still). At that point, though, the story was already complete, and I didn't feel like retooling it. Long story short: The riddles aren't mine, the scenario is loosely based on an old folk tale, but I made up the rest of the story and dialogue.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, guys! I hope to see you again soon.
> 
> Once again, my Tumblr: https://mikauzoran.tumblr.com/
> 
> References:  
> Turandot: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Turandot  
> History of the Pencil: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pencil


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